Charity Case

To: Johannes, 5th Circle of Hermetic Sorcery, League of Magisters

From: Vyrmithrax, Elder Forest Wyrm

RE: Charity Case

Johannes,

Been a while, but I’m glad you finally made 5th circle. I am curious though why you are so interested in this particular affair, but since we are old friends, I have decided to humor you.

As you know, most people don’t think of the fantastic outside of movies in the modern world. Too many cell phones, laptops, and social networks to be concerned with fairies, ghosts, and other such craziness. Humans walk around thinking they have it all figured out. Heads down, typing, giggling, listening to their I-pods. Humans think they have the skinny, and that their world is sane and simple.

Who am I to ruin the illusion for them?

I mean, you certainly know that all those things humans think aren’t real, are. Just hanging on the edges, just outside their range of view. It’s a trick we learned the hard way through many painful interactions with humanity. Nothing scares humans like something they can’t control, so they made us the bad guys. Those bastards are nothing if not efficient, with whole religions and governments created to hunt us, and so us cryptids had to become masters of hiding, often in plain sight. Especially us dragons. (And yes, I like the term cryptid. It’s simple. Sue me if you like something else. Call it a biologist’s imperative.)

I mean, can you imagine a 50-foot winged reptile in Times Square? The panic alone would be a disaster. I’ve been there, and there are SO MANY humans it’s like being in an outdoor sardine can. They call that sane. I’m not sure humans get the meaning of the word. Me, I like the woods. Us forest drakes are all about the outdoors. We do our part for it too, rangers, activists, even loggers and hunters. It’s about balance, and we get that. I myself tend to hang my hat around woodlands, and since I’m a biologist by trade, that is pretty easy. It’s a modern world and even us dragons take a modern tack on things.

Which makes my latest escapade a bit…anachronistic.

You could call it downright out of date, I guess.

The whole thing started about 12 years ago, if I remember correctly. I was running a study on bats in the Acadia National Forest, the Eastern small-footed bat to be precise, and wandering around in the twilight shadows marking good spots to catch and release some specimens when I heard the crying. It stood out; nothing sounds like a crying human in the wilds to someone like me. Might seems a bit arrogant to say it, but I have been around a few hundred years, so I’ve learned a thing or two about listening. It didn’t take me long to find the source, and I can say it was not what I expected. I step through the trees, and there it was staring up at me with tear-filled eyes and the ugliest little sad face I’d ever seen.

What in the hells was a 4-year-old human doing in these woods this time of night in the fall?

As questions go, that wasn’t one I was expecting to ask myself that fateful October night. I’d forgotten all about the bats, the woods, or my research. The kid was suddenly the most important thing going, especially to me, right then. This being the modern world, I probably should have just given the kid back, turned her in to the police, right? Any normal being would have done that right away. Yet, I couldn’t. Something was off about this whole scene, and it took me a second to figure it out.

Dragon eyesight can be a real drag sometimes on subtle details.

When it hit me what was off, I nearly facepalmed. I definitely expelled an “oof” followed by “bugger me” (I like the expression. Comes from too much British TV I guess). The kid was slightly phased but also heavily bruised. I’m talking the kind of bruises you get from an epic beating, and this was a 4-year-old kid. It wasn’t the bruises that made everything tilted about what I was seeing. I’ve seen abuse so many times I’ve lost count. It was the fact that sitting there, this little girl was half-phased and sitting in between realities. She was an untrained slider. Humans don’t normally have the ability to slide between levels of reality, and those that do learn to keep quiet about it quick. Here on my doorstep was one of the lucky few.

And I was pretty sure the beatings were for being different. Humans can be stupid like that.

Just what I needed, a charity case that can dime us out. It’s not a moment to have. The irony of that thought didn’t hit me until later.

We dragons don’t have many rules and keeping our existence a secret is one we hold firm on. By proxy we do it for all the others, not being altruistic but in a very self-preserving kind of way. The other cryptids know it, and they respect we are at least willing to look out for them even if it is just to cover our own asses. Being discovered now would be a mess none of us could clean up and might even mean extinction.

And for a genus that has existed since the Cretaceous, that would be a huge blow to the ego.

So, there I was, face to face with the biggest possible breach of that secret on any number of legs. I knew I had two options on this. I could have ended the kid right there. The rangers would find the body the next day, a wild animal would get blamed, and we would be all good. That just struck me as something Stephen King would write, and as much as I love his work, I’m not that heartless. I could also take her in, raise him, teach her to control her gift and become an ally to a group that gets why being a minority sucks. I didn’t know much about human children though. To be more real, I knew about nada.

Five hundred years old, and I knew nothing about raising a kid.

So of course, I chose option B. Looking back, I was about a clueless dew-scaled wyrmling.

Hell, it’s been 12 years, twelve years, and I still feel like a dew-scaled wyrmling. One in constant need of mac-n-cheese, chicken nuggets, and sugary cereals. Nowadays also one in need of a guide to human puberty.

Though, being honest, the mac-n-cheese isn’t half bad. Puberty, on the other hand, sucks.

So I decided to take the kid in. Not sure now if I was being generous or not, but I have to admit I was fairly impressed she wasn’t freaking out. She was half-phased after all. To be clearer, that meant she could see the real me, in all my winged, reptilian, enormous glory. She could see the dragon underneath the human mask, the real deal hidden behind layers of illusion and misdirection meant to preserve my life and our secrets. She could see the truth.

This toddler was a beast of self-control, let me tell you. Most adults go absolutely ape shit crazy when they see anything remotely unbelievable standing right in their face.

This kid is just sitting there, crying her ugly cry, but not running away or wailing or anything really crazy. She might as well have been an ice cube, she was so cool about what she must be seeing. I just stood there for a minute, like an idiot, trying to make sense of THAT. Finally, I shook my head and knelt down, so my human form eyes were level with hers. I extended my hand out, palm up, to show I wasn’t a threat (hey, humans are animals, so it works, sometimes). Question time.

“Hey kid, what’s wrong? You lost or something? You got family around close by?”

Kid just mumbled something, between sobs and more tears. Way cooler about me than she should be.

“Do you at least have a name, kid? Let’s start there.” Decided to go root basic, maybe I could get some answers that way.

“Ch-ch-charity. I’m-m-m-m lost…I wan-wan-want my mo-mo-mommy!” Kids stutter when they cry, I guess. I confirmed that later; it happened any time she got hurt or I made her angry.

Of course, the name made me do another mental face palm. It was like I suddenly became psychic. I mean, obviously not; I’m not a book wyrm. Still, who would have guessed that was her name?

“Charity huh? Cool name. Where’s your mom?” I still have my hand out. She hasn’t taken it, but she hasn’t run. I can pull her back into phase if she takes it, though, so hold it out I will.

“Da-daddy says she went on vacation, and she isn’t coming back. He blames me, tells me all the time.” Oh great, mom’s died or ran off and dad became an asshole. Now I really want to keep the kid here. And maybe eat her dad. Which I can’t do, even though I loathe abusers.

(Another silly rule we dragons have: NO EATING HUMANS. Luckily humans taste bad anyway. Too sweet, or so I’ve heard. I’m not about to find out anyway.)

“Well, why don’t you stay with me for a while. I could cook you up some grub, maybe get you warmed up from the cold. What do you say?” I can also pull her all the way across to my lair. Still need contact though.

“Su-su-sure, I guess.” Even now, I admire this kid’s chutzpah. She took my hand without much hesitation, even though I knew she could see what it really looked like.

So, I pulled her the rest of the way across. Simpler to get her all in than try and send her back to an incomplete truth. I will never forget how big her eyes got once she was fully in.

Nearspace, Faelands, the Fairy Realm, the Eternal Lands of Spring, the West; it has many names. We’ll just stick to Faelands, I think, but I know you can agree there is nothing like it when it’s in full color.

She was seeing a shade of the real, now she saw the whole canvas in all its colors. Charity smiled, and all at once the crying was gone.

She even jumped and clapped. It was surreal.

I mean, I can’t remember any cryptid doing that. Never. We’re jaded to the beauty, I guess.

Not Charity. She loved it, reveled in it, absolutely ADORED it. It was a nice change of pace.

Of course, I know she hasn’t really seen me yet, and that kid of scares me. I expect her to like the colors of the Faelands. The trees are greener, the flowers more vibrant, the sky an aching, soul-piercing blue. It’s like a great masterpiece that you can stand in, a dream you can touch. Any kid is gonna love that when they can experience it fully.

Not exactly what I was expecting her reaction to be to me.

I’m a 50-foot plus, fine scaled, winged reptile with a natural green-brown sheen. I’m kind of like a winged chameleon without the turret goggle eyes. I suppose the D&D green dragon comes close to how I look, but I’m definitely not that malicious looking in real life. I’m not saying I look friendly by any means. I have six-inch fangs for teeth, for gods’ sake. She’s there in front of me, and I was sitting up on my hind legs, mimicking the stance had in human form, but in all my draconic glory.

But she had seen a hint of the real me and didn’t freak, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When she finally looks at me, she does a double take and steps back. I admit I felt like it was going bad, and I was ready to spell her to sleep, when she jumped forward and grabbed hold on my left rear leg. I’m talking full court bear hug kid of grab. All the while she’s squealing happily, rubbing into my calf and smiling like a lunatic.

“MY VERY OWN DRAGON! YAY!!!!”

I didn’t know it then, but I was a human when a cat picks you. Adopted, whether I liked it or not.

BOOM!

Vyrmithrax jumped, the sudden noise startling him out of his reverie. He tapped the crystal to pause the recording. Looking over his left shoulder towards the chamber where Charity was most likely working, he could already see the smoke cloud rolling out into the main area of his lair.

Vyrmithrax rubbed a claw absentmindedly between his eye ridges, the equivalent of rubbing his forehead in exasperation. That child will be the death of me, he thought, if she isn’t the death of herself first.

“Charity, what in the gods and hells are you doing now?” Vyrmithrax knew what the likely answer was, but he was hoping to be wrong. Jut this once, at least.

“Sorry, pops, I was just trying to create a sparks potion.” Vyrm hated being right. Charity had that damnable problem all humans seemed to have…a love of explosions. “I think I mixed in too much fellpete with that batch.” Charity stepped out from under the smoke cloud. Her straight raven hair now matched the blackened skin of her face where the explosion had sprayed her with ash and soot. “Not hurt though, so no worries there.” Luckily, Vyrm thought drily.

Instead, he sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t play with the alchemy gear like it was a 3rd grade chemistry set. You could get seriously hurt, Charity.”

She cocked her head, smiled. That crooked smile of hers always set him back, staying baby-cute even as she became an otherwise gangly teenager. “Pops, you taught me well enough to stay away from the dangerous reagents, so I do. But it’s not like I can be a normal kid. I gotta keep busy somehow.” Charity put a little whine into that last part, and Vyrm could tell it was at least partially an act. She ducked into the bath chambers, emerging with a clean face at least. Her t-short, jeans and smock were still quite black. Charity leaned against the marbled stone of the cavern wall, her bearing nonchalant. “Am I ever going to get out of the Batcave and into the real world long enough to do something?”

This was the longest-standing argument they had, and it came up at minimum once a week. Vyrm understood Charity needed out time, but she still hadn’t fully mastered sliding or her latent magical abilities. Until she did, Charity was an unintentional exposure risk, and Vyrm was already under observation by the Wyrmkin Alliance council for taking her in at all.

Not that he ever mentioned that to her. Best to not burden the child with additional cares.

“You know the answer to that, Charity. You aren’t ready yet. I’ll cut you a break though. Portal over to Ashra’s place and see Beatrix. I’ve got to finish this C-mail to Johannes.” Most of the time, letting Charity go see her girlfriend placated her. The two were practically inseparable.

Charity harumphed. “You and Johannes. You two should just get together instead of this mail tag thing you keep doing. Especially since it’s probably about me.” She straightened up, smiled slightly and turned. “I accept your booby prize offer. I would love to see Beatrix today anyway. I am missing her.” Charity skipped into her chamber, disappearing through the illusionary doorway that offered her privacy, even from Vyrm’s dragonsight.

Vyrm sighed again. He couldn’t keep her here forever, no matter what the council or he might want. He also knew that Johanne’s interest was actually his master’s interest; sliders were normally sent to he League of Magisters to be taught. A dragon raising one hadn’t been done in 4 centuries, and many believed that Vyrm was overstepping his bounds in doing so.

Vyrm remembered that bruised and beaten toddler and snorted. Crusty old fools can’t see she needed family and not just trainers. Charity had all become his daughter as well as his ward. They had spent a fair amount of the last 12 years in close proximity, and Vyrm knew her nuances better than anyone by now. That didn’t make him an expert by any means, but better equipped than anyone at the League training halls.

Bah. The explosion had thrown him off. He’d have to take some time to come back to the C-mail. Vyrm shifted down to human form just as Charity reemerged from her chamber. She was now wearing a green skirt, white peasant shirt and laced, black leather knee boots. A shoulder baldric carried a scroll case and writing ack, lung low to her left hip. It mimicked how she carried her rapier and made it readily accessible to right hand draw. She stopped about 10 feet from him, standing hands on hips.

“Well Jeeves, to Ashra’s if you please.” Charity chuckled.

Vyrm suppressed another sigh. The chauffer joke was an old one. He waved his hand, muttered an incantation, and a rose-rimmed green portal opened to her right. “Try not to get into too much trouble, Charity. You and Beatrix tend to act without thinking.”

“She is a fae, so that’s going to happen.” Charity sniffed dismissively. “I’ll try to keep her straight.”

Vyrm stifled a laugh, making it a cough, grinning. “If you say so Charity. If you say so. Have a good time.”

She smiled, gave Vyrm a hug, and then stepped through. He waved to portal shut behind her. He stayed there a moment, looking at the space where she had last stood, then smiled ruefully.

“They grow up so fast. Guess I should make sure she didn’t wreck my lab, and them get back to the C-mail. So much to do, so much to do,” Vyrm muttered to himself as he entered the lab.

“Always so much to do.”